


evergreen eyes and caramel frappuccinos

by acropclis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, BAMF!Natasha, BAMF!Wanda, Crush at First Sight, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Starbucks, Very AU, a lot of lesbian love, artist!wanda, at some point there's gonna be some violence just sayin', barista!wanda, everyone knows they're in love except them, hurt!Wanda, hurt!natasha, law student!natasha, my two dorks, poor!wanda, rich!natasha, so adorable, that's about it, unsure!natasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acropclis/pseuds/acropclis
Summary: Wanda's job as a barista has always bored her to tears. That is until a redhead became a regular at the Starbucks she works in. A spurt of courage, a flower drawn, a hundred buck tipped- those gestures may not have seemed much at the times, but in the grand scheme of things, tiny gestures have the biggest effect.Read as they both change each other's lives in ways they couldn't even imagine in the beginning.-Yes, this is a coffee shop AU. Yes, I dared. Bite me.





	1. Chapter 1

# Evergreen eyes and caramel frappuccinos

Wanda’s routine was simple. It was as simple as it was repetitive. She wakes up around 3 am. She showers and brushes her teeth, eats sugary cereal and cold milk, then brushes her teeth again. She gets dressed in all black because it reminded her of her constant state of mind— depressed, dark, moody, sleepy. Pietro liked to joke that she wears her personality. She did indeed. She puts on her trusty eyeliner, and mascara, a dash of lip gloss and some dark eyeshadow, and she’s ready for the day.

She doesn’t do the dishes and locks her door twice before going out. She walks a few minutes and breathes in the polluted morning Brooklynn air. She takes the subway and disembarks at the 8 Street station. She buys a newspaper, because it’s the only open stand at that hour, and it makes her feel less lonely that someone is up as early as her. She then walks to Washington Square Park, even if it’s the long way around to get to the Starbucks on 4th street, and crosses it, while reading her newspaper. She throws it in the can in front of her workplace and opens up shop.

She starts brewing the coffee, wiping the counter clean, and prepping cups and cutlery before 4:30 am. Her apron hangs from her neck as a grim reminder that this is her place, always behind the counter, always serving people, never being her own boss. It reminds her that she can’t afford college, can barely even afford her apartment if it wasn’t for Pietro, and that she will never be what she dreams to be. Independent. Educated. An English teacher. She knew that as far as dreams went, hers wasn’t as frivolous as others, but she liked it. It was _hers._ In a world where she only had a few possessions she could truly consider her own, she treasured her dreams more than anything.

That was why she kept her sketchbook close to her at all times. She usually hides it in the pocket of her apron, and takes it out during the lazy hours of her shift to draw. She drew customers. She drew their lives as she imagined them to be. She drew her life like she dreamt it to be. She drew herself in their place, typing away on her MacBook, drinking coffee, studying whatever they were studying, speaking on the phone in hushed tones to a loved one, to a wife, to a boss, to employees.

She would imagine a life she’ll never have and sigh wistfully.

That day, the other barista, James, arrived 30 minutes after her. He put on his apron and went behind the counter with an easy smile on his face, reserved especially for her. She’ll never understand why he so stubbornly wants to be her friend. She was as uninteresting as the next depressed girl.

Still, he took a mug she has been wiping for the last few minutes while lost in thought, and tucked it in its place.

“What’s up?” He asked smoothly, nodding towards the notebook’s outline, visible in her apron’s pocket.

James knew about her obsession with people-watching. He knew that she liked to imagine herself in their place. She feared that he would find that weird as fuck in the beginning, but apparently, he found that endearing. He even took to the habit too.

“A business woman today, hopefully, or a student,” she shrugged, a bored tone to her voice. That was what she was hoping to become in her imaginary life today.

He nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, today kick starts the semester at NYU. We’ll be crowded in a few hours. Hopefully, you’ll meet your match.”

Wanda hoped so.

The chill September air was kept at bay by the constantly closed doors of the Café. The orange leaves left in the wake of the beginning of fall, those leaves that she loved to play in as a child, were swirling in the air, enjoying their freedom in the cold, empty streets. In a few hours, the New York usual crowd would flood the place, and the leaves would be crushed under their impatient, workaholic boots.

Wanda could relate to those leaves.

James was right. At about 7 am, five college students marched in like they owned the place, dressed in Ugg boots, cute jackets and beanies.

Wanda gritted her teeth to jail any comment behind them, and smile her best fake smile. She didn’t usually have any sorts of murderous thoughts, but ‘tis was the season, right?

Those people were painfully privileged. Wanda wanted to murder one of those snobby rich girls and steal her life. She wanted the comfortable looking jacket and the expensive boots. She wanted the liberty and ability to go to college. Too bad she was too dumb for a grant, and too scrawny for any sport’s scholarship. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she could find a college shitty enough to be affordable to her, but she had lost faith and hope a while ago. She hasn’t looked up colleges since.

She served the girls, who went to sit on a table next to a window.

It was a promising start to her shitty day.

It continued on like this for 30 minutes, serving privileged motherfuckers who didn’t look at her twice — out of about 15 people, she got 2 thank you’s. Wow.

It was at 7:34 am that the bell jingled, signaling the arrival of a new customer.

Wanda’s head whipped to the door, and she stood up from where she was sitting, putting on her fake smile, and adjusting her tip jar.

She saw a redhead strut in, a confident air to her. She looked young, as in college student young. She was also the most beautiful human being Wanda has ever seen.

She’s had crushes in the past. Oh, so many crushes. They were all usually on better faring people, people who were prone to rejecting her, fearing a gold digger. That was why she’s never had a relationship with anyone.

She saw the redhead get in line, playing absentmindedly with a lock of her own hair. She was wearing a buttoned up pea coat that got to her knees, along with dark pants, and combat boots. A thick wooly scarf was draped around her neck, and she looked positively adorable snuggling it. Wanda’s heart skipped a beat when the woman got in front of the line— thus in front of her.

Her pale, pristine skin was even more flawless, her nose red from the cold. Her green eyes shone under the Starbucks’ artificial lights, and her pink, plump lips stretched into a genuine smile.

Then she said something that Wanda completely missed. She was too busy staring at those _totally_ kissable lips to hear anything the hot stranger had to say.

She blinked twice when she saw the redhead’s smile falter for a moment, and snapped back to reality.

“Excuse me- what?” She stuttered, her cheeks going as red as the stranger’s nose.

The woman smiled at her softly. “I just said hello.”

Oh. _Oh._

Wanda’s heart stopped. Yeah. Yup, that’s it. She’s dead. She hoped she could get CPR from this girl though, because _hot damn._

Her voice was so melodic that Wanda’s smile automatically turned as genuine as the stranger’s.

“Oh, um- hi. Welcome to Starbuck. What can I get for you?” Wanda tried her best to sound as unbothered by this person as possible, but it was a complete lie, and she’s never been a very good liar.

The stranger’s eyes fleeted towards the menu for a quick second, before coming back to Wanda. “A caramel Frappuccino would be perfect, please. Grande, with extra whipped cream.”

Wanda nodded dumbly. “Your name?” She asked, taking the designated cup in her hand, and a marker in another. She just hoped she wasn’t shaking too much. And that the woman wouldn’t notice.

“Natasha.”

Natasha… Oh wow. Even her name was beautiful. Wanda blushed slightly at her intrusive thoughts that were screaming at her something that sounded like ‘what would happen if you kissed this woman and ran’, and scribbled down her name on the cup.

“It’ll take a few minutes,” Wanda said, gesturing towards the tables.

Natasha nodded again, and, with a small ‘thank you’ that made Wanda’s heart soar, made her way towards a table at the back.

As soon as she was sure the woman wasn’t looking, Wanda got to work doodling a cute flower on her cup. She looked like she deserved something like that. Maybe she would go tell her friends that a barista drew her a rose on her cup and actually spelled her name right? Maybe it would make her day? Because she seriously made Wanda’s.

A few minutes later, the drink was done, and Natasha made her way to the counter to take it. She flashed a smile at Wanda, and went back to her table, sitting down and continuing to read whatever book Wanda hadn’t noticed she was even holding— mainly because she was too busy staring at the sway of her long, wavy flaming hair.

Wanda’s eyes didn’t leave her for a few minutes, waiting for her to notice the flower. She never did.

With a dejected look on her face, she served a few more clients before Natasha —it felt so good, knowing her name. It was rolling around Wanda’s mind so naturally, like its place has always been in there— got up, threw her cup in the trash, and approached the counter with that soft smile playing on her lips.

“The flower was adorable, thank you,” she whispered, her eyes boring into Wanda’s with warmth and affection, and the barista melted under her gaze.

Natasha then proceeded to take out a 100 bucks from her purse, and put them in Wanda’s tip jar.

The barista couldn’t believe her eyes.

The redhead flashed her another quick smile before the door’s bell jingled, and she disappeared in the sea of people outside.

The person who was standing first in line grumbled ‘rich white girls who throw money like it doesn’t mean anything’ was what made Wanda snap out of her reverie.

No way. No _way_ , that person just left her a hundred dollars, just like that.

She quickly fished the bill from the jar, and bolted from around the counter, quickly yelling at James to handle the cash register.

The cold, biting New York wind slapped her cheeks as soon as she made it outside, and instantly made her regret not wearing her coat before dashing after Natasha. But she couldn’t waste a second. She could lose her in the crowd and never see her again.

That thought scared Wanda and shook her to her core, but she elected to ignore it. She had to find her and return the money. It _has_ to be a mistake. Wanda was certain that a normal person in their right mind would never tip a hundred fucking dollars. Natasha probably didn’t notice that she tipped that much. Wanda couldn’t have that on the conscience. She felt like she had basically stolen the money.

With the cash weighing more in her heart than in her hand, she ran in the direction she saw Natasha take a minute ago.

She ran for what felt like hours, even though it was just a couple of minutes. She finally saw a flash of red in a sea of blacks and blonds, and dashed towards it.

She caught the redhead’s arm, breathing heavily. She was _seriously_ out of shape. She really should consider enrolling in a gym— like she could afford it. Maybe she could take up running? Yeah, that sounded like a better idea.

Natasha turned around when she felt Wanda grip her arm. A look of pleasant surprise crossed her face, and she took out her earphones from her ears.

“Hey- uh, I think you made a mistake,” Wanda deadpanned, shoved the bill in the redhead’s hands, and took off running in the opposite direction.

‘Way to go Wanda. You could’ve asked for her number, or like, I don’t know, her last name? Stupid, stupid-’

“WAIT! WAIT, NO!”

The scream made Wanda pause, and turn around with a dumbfounded air to her.

“What?”

“Why did you give it back?” Natasha asked, jogging towards where Wanda was standing.

The barista was flustered to say the least. From the run, and the beautiful, sparkling green eyes that were focused on her, contrasting so heavily with the earthy tones of Fall.

“Because… it’s a hundred bucks?” Wanda stated, though it sounded more like a question. Wasn’t it very obvious?

“Yeah, I know,” Natasha raised an eyebrow. Then, she seemed to understand Wanda’s struggle. “Oh, you thought- No, it wasn’t a mistake. I meant to tip that much,” she said, with a soft smile on her lips, wrapping her gloved hands around her arms. Her smile turned uncertain at Wanda’s jaw drop.

Let’s just say the other girl was almost choking on her own spit.

What the actual _fuck_?

“What?”

Natasha frowned, her weight shifting from one foot to another. Her eyes weren’t meeting Wanda’s anymore. “I just wanted- I felt like thanking you. You made my day with that flower.”

“So you tip me one hundred dollars?” Wanda crossed her arms, fully comprehending that she’s talking with the woman she will be daydreaming about for the next few months. Fuck, she’s so far gone already.

“It’s not a big deal for me, really,” Natasha stated with another shrug, her eyes still trained to the ground. “I’m… well off. I wanted to help.”

Wanda would normally be boiling with anger at that point. A rich white girl throwing away her money like it didn’t mean a thing. But Natasha… Natasha seemed genuine. She seemed to really _want_ to help Wanda. The barista searched the redhead’s eyes for a while, looking for traces of pity. She found none.

“Please, keep it.” Natasha handed her the bill, which she took with a little bit— ok, a _lot_ of shock.

“Th-thank you…?”

Natasha’s eyes finally came up to Wanda’s face, knocking the air out of her lungs. Then, she just smiled, turned around, and continued walking towards wherever she was going.

Only when the mesmerizing eyes weren’t trained on her, did she feel that her heart had been beating frantically the whole time she was talking with the other woman.

Well… Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? How did you like that? Please leave your thoughts in the comments :) I would love to hear what you have to say!  
> See you in a couple of days or so!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, long time no see, you suckers! I don't know how I managed to finish this but here you go. I don't even like it but I thought I should give you something.
> 
> In which: a lot of clichés happen and Wanda's very gay.

****_evergreen eyes and caramel frappucinos 2_

The redhead was like an anchor that had been keeping her grounded, keeping her from drowning in the intricate and ever-changing sea of New Yorkers.

After her hasty departure, it was like the ground began crumbling underneath the brunette. Like a rug was pulled from under her feet. She suddenly wasn't floating in the elation caused by a new crush. She was drowning, surrounded by faceless men and women. Someone bumped into her from behind and her breath hitched.

Her face crinkled in disgust and undisguised fear. She can't do it. She can't.

She turned around and bolted, the hundred dollars bill clutched tightly in her hand. It was her safe-boat in a raging ocean of workaholics.

She finally arrived at her Starbucks and burst through the doors, probably scaring a few customers. She tried to get her erratic breathing under control as she went back behind the counter, with James' cautious and concerned gaze trained on her.

"What happened?" he asked, making sure to keep his distance.

He knew Wanda's anxiety attacks. He's been the cause of a few of them when he first met her. Touching her at the moment was a no-go. He had to distract her somehow. And what better distraction than talking? If there was anything Wanda liked more than drawing, it was rambling. And frankly, James didn't mind it. Her imagination was wild. It made working such a dull job bearable, almost enjoyable— almost.

"I tried giving her money back," she began, wringing her hands anxiously.

James frowned. "Yeah, okay."

"She didn't accept it, and told me to keep it." She showed him the now crumbled up bill tightly held in her hand. Her eyes were fixed on the ground.

James finally understood. She was afraid he would think less of her because she kept the money. Oh, Wanda...

"It's okay. She gave it to you willingly and you deserve it. Don't beat yourself up over it." He smiled his easy James Barnes smile that actually got him a boyfriend, and he saw some tension in Wanda's shoulders evaporate.

"Thanks, James," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.

The day continued on uneventfully, giving Wanda plenty of opportunities to wander towards the generous redhead. Her smile was blindingly beautiful. Her blushed cheeks and red nose gave her an extra bout of pure cuteness— not that she needed it. Her pale porcelain skin gave Wanda the absolute certainty that she wasn't American. Not that it mattered. If anything, it made her even more attractive.

During her pause, her hands drifted to her apron's front pocket. She felt her notebooks pages, heavy with ink and feelings, shift underneath her fingers. She pulled it out almost unconsciously and took her pencil out of her bun.

Wait, how long has it been there? Did she talk to Natasha with a  _pencil_ in her hair?  _Fuck._

She opened it up to a blank page. She drew the outline of Natasha's face, her high cheekbones, and sharp jawline. Her luscious lips and almond-shaped eyes. She had just finished her wavy hair and was going to start on the shading of her nose and her adorable freckles when she heard someone clear his throat behind her. Shit.

She turned around, her cheeks flaming like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend. James was grinning at her, handing her an iced tea.

She took it, embarrassed, her eyes fixated on drawn-Natasha's features.

"I've never seen you draw with so much detail before. I've never seen you develop a crush so fast either. Ensorcelled by a Russian beauty?"

Wanda's head snapped up at the tidbit of information.

"How did you know that she's Russian?"

"She told me." James shrugged like he didn't know how vital this knowledge was to Wanda.

"How do you know her?" She asked, her eagerness bleeding through her tone clearly.

"She's a regular," James explained. "She comes here all the time during the school semester."

At Wanda's encouraging nod, he continued. "She studies law at NYU, she's pretty well off, obviously. She has a place on the fifth. We used to chat while I made her coffee. She always takes the same thing. A caramel Frappuccino."

Wanda smiled like the secrets of the universe were revealed to her. Maybe they were.

"So she's going to be back?"

"Probably." He grinned. "You didn't deny that you have a crush on her."

"Maybe I don't want to deny it," Wanda whispered, a small dreamy smile on her lips.

She definitely liked being attracted to Natasha. She purposefully pushed the fact that she would never ever be able to go out with her to the back of her head. No one like Natasha would ever give her a second glance. She was okay with that.

Later that night, when her brother asked her what she was so intently thinking about, she just smiled, shook her head, and told him it was just wishful thinking.

—

Wanda's routine was broken the next morning, but not in a distasteful way, as one would expect. She woke up with a smile, a welcome change to her usually gloomy morning. She put a little more effort into styling her hair, pulling it into a fishtail braid instead of its usual careless bun. She went lighter on the mascara and eyeliner because she had a striking eye color that she usually hated in the storm of self-deprecation she was living in. But she knew, due to her very brief experience in the dating scene, that people found gray beautiful. She personally preferred the evergreen orbs of a certain Russian.

She put on her favorite black top that made her look hella cute and paired it with a skirt and her favorite black leather jacket. She looked like a goth, but a very hot goth. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She may not be able to date Natasha, but she'll damn sure impress her.

She ate her sugary cereal and locked her door twice. She took the long way around to get to her job, buying a newspaper that she'll pretend to read on her way there. She arrived, feeling like she was in a ghost town. She opened up and did a bit of cleaning, then she waited.

She waited for a long time. She might've fallen asleep at some point. James' arrival at the start of the morning rush woke her and her eagerness up.

Then, at 7:14 AM, the bell jingled and a certain redhead made her way into the busy shop. Wanda never felt so happy. So it was true. She really was gonna see her every day.

In her excitement, she completely missed the order of the gentleman who was currently first in line. That was her first mistake. She snapped back to reality when the man raised an eyebrow irritably.

"What?" she asked.

That was, you guessed it, her second mistake.

The man scoffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at her.

"Are you done gawking like an idiot?"

And her final mistake, her indignant "excuse me?"

She felt all the eyes in the cafe settle on them. Her heartbeat picked up. She definitely shouldn't have done that. She should have just stayed quiet like she always did.

"You heard me! You didn't even bother to take my order. You just stood there like the fucking idiot you are and stared!"

Wanda gulped and paled considerably. That's it, she was fucked. Silence fell in the cafe. All the eyes were on Wanda and her client.

"Back off, man," James warned, approaching Wanda slowly.

"You back off! Or do you want me to ask for the manager?" The man seethed, and James greeted his teeth.

Wanda was on her own.

"I would prefer if you didn't," the voice rank clear and forceful, effectively breaking the in the uneasy silence.

The man spun around, but Wanda immediately located the source of the voice.

Natasha stood up, smoothing her pea coat down, and raised a flawless eyebrow. "It wouldn't kill you to repeat the order," she shrugged, making the man snort.

"I don't think she would understand it," he drawled.

Natasha frowned. "I said, it wouldn't kill you to  _try_. Or am I not being clear enough?"

"Why should I?" He yelled, raising his hands in the air. "She's clearly dumb."

Natasha was visibly blistering by then. Wanda found it kind of hot. She wasn't even paying attention to the guy anymore. Natasha had an ice cold anger to her. The temperature around her seemed to have dropped, mirroring the Absolute Zero. She could almost see the snowflakes swirling around the redhead.

Natasha approached the man and whispered something in his ear. The man paled considerably, took a few steps back, looking at the woman like she was some kind of monster. Then, he effectively ran out of the coffee shop.

All the eyes settled on Natasha, who took a few deep breaths, softened her demeanor, and went back to sit on her table. Wanda was speechless, and she was also  _incredibly_  turned on.

Natasha defended her. Publicly. Sure, she looked creepy as fuck doing so, but it was a sexy kind of creepy.

"Your girlfriend is scary," James whispered from behind her, making her roll her eyes.

"She's not my girlfriend." She sighed.

"You should thank her," he suggested, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"You're right, I should." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and proceeded to make a Caramel Frappuccino with extra,  _extra_  whipped cream.

Then, she made her way to the table, where Natasha was sitting, typing away on her Mac.

Wanda cleared her throat awkwardly, making the redhead break out of her concentrated writing streak, and look up. She smiled when she saw Wanda.

"Hello," she greeted, closing her laptop.

Wanda gulped. She stopped working to talk to her. That must mean something, right? Also, she absolutely had  _not_ thought this through. How did talking work, again?

"I, uh, wanted to thank you. For what you did—said to that guy. Though you didn't have to, it happens all the time."

"Wait, it does?" Natasha looked as angry as she did a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, but it's really not a problem or anything, I mean-" She broke off before she could begin rambling on unnecessarily, and found herself staring at Natasha.

The curve on her cheekbone, the sharpness of her jaw, the sparkle in those eyes-

She cleared her throat again and thrust the drink in Natasha's hand. "That's for you."

Natasha positively lit up at the sight of the coffee. "Is that extra whipped cream?"

"Yeah, as a thank you." Wanda was hopping from foot to foot, all excitement, and warmth, and Natasha could not help but laugh.

And by god, was it a beautiful laugh.

"Well, then. I shall be your knight in shining armor more often!" She raised her cup in cheers, then sipped on the drink.

Wanda was  _maybe_  drooling by that point.

"Wanda! Back to work maybe?"

' _Oh, James Barnes, you fucking cockblocker.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, now my conscience is clear.
> 
> Next up: Natasha has a problem.
> 
> When I’ll see you next is purely up to the gods at this point. bye! don’t forget to review btw that’d be nice thanks


End file.
